


Static

by MyChemicalRachel



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Hijacked radio station, M/M, Pirate DJ, Radio, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard is in love with the DJ of a pirate radio station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Static

Summary:  
Gerard is in love with the DJ of a pirate radio station.

…

It doesn’t make much sense if you think about it. Really, it doesn’t make any sense. At all. So Gerard tries his best not to think about it. He tries not to think about how, every night at the same time, it’s instinct to flick on the ancient stereo system in his bedroom, how he lays back on his crummy old mattress and closes his eyes. He tries not to think how it’s normal for him now to listen to the distant voice and imagine that complete stranger sitting right next to him, though he doesn’t even know what the man looks like.

Gerard tries his best not to think about the fact that he’s completely in love with a disembodied voice he found on the radio.

As Gerard lays back now, he hears the faint static of his stereo playing softly into the room. Dead air. Nothing but that crinkly noise, like when you ruffle around loose paper, mixed with the mechanical buzz the uninhabited station emits.

Gerard shifts his sketchbook on his lap as he waits. His pen taps mindlessly against the white sheet, unscathed by any marks. His mind is blank and he really needs the inspiration from his favorite pirate DJ to lift his spirits.

Soon enough, the static melts away into background noise. A few clicks and a screeching sound like the stereo is searching for signal, and then the low hum of the voice that Gerard just can’t get enough of.

“Hey motherfuckers,” The DJ greets him. His voice is flat, almost bored, if not for a soft undertone of humor and excitement. “Fun Ghoul here, in case you didn’t already know. I’ll be your host tonight and I have quite a fucking ride planned for my sexy-ass listeners out there, so hold onto your panties and keep your hands and feet inside the radio station at all times. Be back in a few with some news.”

A recognizable Green Day song started playing through a hint of static and Gerard begins sketching.

Gerard remembers near perfectly when he first found Fun Ghoul’s station. He was headed home from the supermarket after a midnight trip to get cookie dough, fiddling with the radio in his car. Due to the late hour, every station he had preset was playing nonstop commercials to fill their advert quota or signal boosting local bands which usually all sounded like Motley Crue cover artists. He had finally found the pirate DJ, in the middle of some curse filled rant about “how the fucking hell are teachers allowed to just call you out in the middle of class like that? Public humiliation isn’t punishment, it’s fucking torture. It’s embarrassing and it doesn’t make me wanna change my attitude, it makes me wanna piss in your morning coffee, fucking bastards.” And since that night, nearly three months ago, Gerard had been listening to Fun Ghoul’s cast almost every night. It was an addiction, he was able to admit, but Fun Ghoul was kind of a like a drug, one he wasn’t willing to quit anytime soon.

Fun Ghoul, as the DJ called himself, was anonymous. Probably for a multitude of reasons. Hijacking a radio station, as Gerard learned from Google, is illegal and punishable by a fine of like a hundred grand, maybe even jail time. Fun Ghoul probably knew this. Gerard also assumed he was anonymous because of the shit he talks. Gerard had gathered over the months of listening to the station that whoever this Fun Ghoul guy was, he was in High School, probably around seventeen or eighteen like Gerard, and-- also like Gerard-- not popular by any standards. Along with the kick-ass music he played, Fun Ghoul also told stories about his life. And it was none too happy.

He was bullied some, but more than that, he was ignored. People at school didn’t seem to acknowledge his existence and his home life wasn’t much better. His parents fought constantly and he’d even heard them yelling about divorce on more than one occasion. It didn’t sound like he had many friends, and those he did have had nicknames he referred to when talking on air; He only ever mentioned “BeanPole”-- His best friend, by the sounds of it-- and someone he called “The Guitar God.” Every once and awhile, he even mentioned “The Greatest Human To Have Ever Graced The Earth.” Gerard only wished he could be lucky enough to know exactly who this stranger on the radio was.

By the time the Green Day song ends, followed immediately by Soundgarden, Bush, and Billy Idol, Gerard had finished a rough sketch of Fun Ghoul. It’s almost foolish to even say that it’s a drawing of the pirate DJ, since Gerard has not even the slightest idea what he looks like, but Gerard feels in his heart that it’s at least similar to the stranger. The figure on his paper is blurry and distant, almost indistinguishable as human.

“I am head over heels in love,” Fun Ghoul states as soon as he’s back on air. And Gerard can hear it in the stranger’s voice, that dreamy tone. It makes Gerard frown. “I feel kind of like shit, you know? Because I’ve never been in love before and it sucks since The Greatest Human To Have Ever Graced The Earth doesn’t even know I exist. But I’m madly fucking in love with him.” There’s a pause and Gerard listens, trying to physically feel the sigh he can hear Fun Ghoul release. He would give anything to feel that breath on his skin. The simple thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“Maybe it’s not love,” Fun Ghoul decides. His voice sounds weighted this time with the heavy words. “I don’t know. I’m fucking sixteen, you know? Maybe I’m not in love with him. Maybe I’m just blinded by the urge to kiss his fucking perfect face every time I see him. He’s gorgeous, okay? Like… Kurt Cobain before drugs gorgeous. And he’s smart, but not in the traditional, shitty school education system kind of smart. He’s actually intelligent. He knows shit, random shit that nobody else knows, off the top of his head. And he’s talented-- He’s the next fucking Alex Pardee or something. He draws and he writes these stupid little comics about superheroes and serial killers and he doesn’t know that I’ve read them, but BeanPole shows me them all the time. He’s gonna be famous one day.”

Fun Ghoul laughs and Gerard can’t help the pang of jealously that shoots through him at the sound. He wants to hear that laugh without the static of the station, wants to hear it close to his ear, just for him. He wants to tell Fun Ghoul that whatever he feels for this “Greatest Human Ever” isn’t love. Not even fucking close to love. But the distant tone his voice took on while talking has Gerard thinking that maybe it is love because this Greatest Human Ever does sound kind of perfect…

“I’ve stolen his movies, too,” Fun Ghoul is continuing. It sounds like he’s leaned closer to the speaker, talking lower. It’s more personal somehow and Gerard finds himself abandoning his sketchbook to focus solely on his words. “He’s got all these great classics like Wolf Man and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. BeanPole has some of them, but this guy’s collection is just…” Fun Ghoul groans softly like the taste in movies is somehow turning him on. Gerard listens closely, wanting to absorb every small sound he makes. “I wonder what it would be like to just sit there with him on his bed and watch them all. He would put his arm around me and I would lean into his side and then halfway through the movie, I would just fucking attack him. Push him down on the bed and kiss the crap out of him.” Gerard shifts a little on his bed because now he’s imagining it, too. He pictures himself with this faceless stranger. They would roll around on the sheets together, kissing and touching and tasting each other while some horror movie played unwatched in the background.

“Anyway, I think I know what I’m going to do,” Fun Ghoul says. There’s a defiant edge to his voice, strong and sure, yet somehow nervous at the same time. “There’s this concert in Newark this weekend. Some local shit called The Bags or something--” Gerard’s attention piques at this statement. It’s not the verification that Fun Ghoul definitely lives in Jersey-- Gerard already figured that after finding out that hijacked radio waves can only carry up to like thirty miles with an FM transmitter. But what catches Gerard’s attention is the band name-- The Bags. His brother had convinced him only two weeks ago that getting tickets to see an undiscovered band before they blew up was a good idea. Mikey insisted Gerard leave the confines of his basement bedroom and step outside into the “real world” and meet some new people. And so when Fun Ghoul mentions the band and town, Gerard is rendered speechless. “I’m going with a couple friends. The Greatest Guy Ever is supposed to be there, too. And when I see him, I’m going to pin him against the fucking wall and kiss him so hard, his brother can taste it.” The DJ laughs lightly, the sound sending another jolt down Gerard’s spine. “And I guess if nothing happens after that, if he pushes me away and tells me to fuck off, then I will. I’ll at least know that I had the balls to kiss the guy I’m in love with.”

Gerard wants to feel jealous again for whatever relationship, or non-relationship, Fun Ghoul and this Great Human Ever person have, but his head is spinning.

Fun Ghoul is going to be at the concert this weekend. And now, at least Gerard knows how to find him-- He’ll be the one with some attractive guy pressed up against the wall. And Gerard fully intends on finding the DJ.

 

When the night of the concert finally rolls around, Gerard is so nervous he’s sweating a hurricane. He takes three showers just to rid himself of the stench, even going so far as to wash his hair AND shave his face. He tries to remind himself that he might not even see Fun Ghoul, that he has no idea what this guy looks like or what his name might be, or he could have been fucking with his listeners completely and not even be at the stupid show. But Gerard couldn’t take that chance. If there was a slight chance that Fun Ghoul might be there, Gerard had to go.

An hour before the show, Gerard wonders up his bedroom stairs into the kitchen, greeted instantly by the sound of laughter. Not directed at him, of course. Mikey is sitting on the edge of the counter, a spoon hanging from his nose, and is belching the national anthem. Across from his younger brother, Gerard recognizes two of his friends. The taller one, currently giggling and informing Mikey that he’s singing the wrong words, is Ray. Next to him, simply laughing his ass off, is Frank.

While Gerard grabs a soda from the fridge, Mikey finishes his act and lets the spoon drop into his hand. He chuckles and looks Gerard up and down. He looks amused. “Dude, you showered.”

Gerard tries not to look offended because, yeah showering isn’t a daily task for him, but he doesn’t like it when Mikey points that out. “Yes,” Gerard states. “I showered. I also shaved and put my shoes on all by myself. Even got them on the right feet. Thanks, Mom.”

Mikey laughs again and shakes his head, trying to retract the bluntness of his previous statement. “No, I just mean you usually only shower when you’re trying to impress someone. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Mikey,” Gerard starts to scold, but thankfully Ray intervenes instead.

“Show starts in an hour. We should probably head out if we want to get good spots.” He looks between the other three and then gestures with one hand to the door, as if he might have to physically herd the others into the car.

Ray drives. Gerard tries to argue-- He’s the oldest, he should be the driver-- but Ray waves him off and insists that Gerard will probably want to drink and he doesn’t have a problem with being the designated driver. So Gerard gives in, sliding into the backseat of Ray’s Ford with Frank.

The first few minutes are silent until Frank strikes up a conversation. Gerard hasn’t talked to Frank much, to be honest. He seems like a sweet kid, a year or so younger than Gerard, and mostly quiet, but he’s cute and there’s something captivating about his hazel eyes. Mysterious.

“They’re pretty good,” Frank says. He leans a bit closer to Gerard, wanting to be heard over whatever heated debate Ray and Mikey are having in the front seat without having to yell. “The Bags, I mean. They’re some local shit, but I looked ‘em up online. The guitar player is fucking insane.”

“Yeah?” Is the only thing Gerard can think to say. He hasn’t heard the band’s music and he doesn’t know the first thing about them other than that they’re local.

Frank doesn’t seem deterred by Gerard’s lack of conversational skills. He just nods fervently. “Yeah. And the singer, it’s a chick. She can fucking scream. Her voice is like completely wrecked to shit, but in a good way. She can sing, too. She’s got some Maria Brink shit going on, like Brody Dalle or something.”

Gerard feels his lips twitch up in a small smile and he’s not really sure why. The way Frank is nodding along with his own words, emphasizing them with these quick spasmodic hand gestures, it intrigues Gerard. And hearing the familiar names piques his interest. He finds himself wanting to know more, not just about the band, but about Frank, too.

“You like Brody Dalle?”

Frank’s eyes widen and he laughs, a sound Gerard finds tantalizing and distantly familiar. “Fuck yes, I like Brody Dalle. If she had a dick, I would jump her so fucking fast.”

The bluntness of his outright admittance makes Gerard laugh, and then he replays the words again in his head and laughs even harder. Frank watches him, a wide grin on his lips. The left side is pierced, a small hoop adorning the punctured flesh. Gerard feels mesmerized and Frank must see him watching because he bites down on it, tugging gently on the metal, and Gerard has to look away because holy shit, that’s kind of hot. And it shouldn’t be hot. This is Frank, this is one of Mikey’s best friends. Gerard is not allowed to find his brother’s best friends hot. That is just not okay.

So Gerard settles with glaring out the window, focusing his attention on the concert. Soon enough, he will be scanning the crowd for his nameless pirate DJ. Gerard thinks it might be easier to find him if he were to actually dress like a pirate. The term “pirate DJ” is kind of misleading unless Fun Ghoul is planning on going into the concert with an eye patch and a peg leg yelling about rum and booty, which Gerard doesn’t think is very likely to happen. He tries to imagine just what Fun Ghoul will look like. He ends up imaging Jack Sparrow and sighs heavily, his breath fogging up the window for a second. When it clears, he sees the venue outside. Nerves hit him again full force and he thinks he might pee his pants.

 

Inside, a crowd is already forming in front of the stage. A few people are checking equipment, making sure everything sounds alright and is working properly. Gerard loses the others almost as soon as they’re through the door as he makes a beeline for the bar. He flashes the lady behind the bar a fake ID that probably looks as believable as his grandfather’s hairpiece, but she says nothing and hands him a beer.

He’s on his second drink when The Bags finally comes on. He tries to focus, realizing that Frank was most definitely not kidding when he said the vocalist was awesome. But Gerard can’t seem to pay attention, his mind is elsewhere. He scans the wall near the back, lined with a few people who are mostly talking or dancing. A few look wasted already, waving a beer in the air and “woo-hoo-ing” at the top of their lungs. He doesn’t see anyone like his DJ, no one that resembles a “Fun Ghoul” or even looks too appealing. Nobody that catches his attention.

Gerard takes another drink, shifting his gaze back to the band just as someone slides up beside him. With a quick glance, he sees it’s Frank. The younger boy’s hair is mussed and sweaty and Gerard assumes he’s been in the middle of the crowd up until now. Frank grins up at Gerard and gestures with one hand to the half-empty beer in his grasp. Gerard doesn’t quite understand the silent question, but Frank doesn’t care. He grabs the bottle from Gerard and downs it in one drink. When he sets the bottle down on the counter, he laughs. The sound, muffled and almost lost in the noise of the crowd, sends a chill through Gerard. He blames it on the open doors, letting in the cool November breeze.

“Aren’t they awesome?!” Frank nearly has to scream to be heard over the music, but he leans close to Gerard.

Gerard just nods along his agreement. He misses the bottle in his hands suddenly, wishes he had something to hold onto. He feels nervous and he’s not really sure why.

Frank leans closer again, this time pointing to the massive crowd gathering before the stage. “You wanna get closer?!”

Gerard thinks. He wants to say yes. He wants to get lost in that crowd with Frank and feel the beat of the drums in his chest, but he involuntarily glances back to the wall again. Still, Gerard doesn’t see anyone he thinks might be Fun Ghoul. Frank is still watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Gerard opens his mouth slightly and ends up shaking his head. “I’m gonna get another beer.” And he does. When he gets his drink and turns back around, Frank is gone.

 

Gerard leaves early. Well, he doesn’t technically leave, but part of the way through The Bags’ set, he sneaks out the back door of the bathroom to smoke and ends up getting locked out. He wants to leave after that, but he can’t just abandon the others, so he stays where he is and lights up one cigarette after another. He’s got two done, working on the third, when the back door swings open. Gerard looks up, his gaze finding Frank. The younger boy pulls out his own crumpled pack of cigarettes, putting the filter of one to his lips before even noticing Gerard.

Frank jumps, looking surprised. “I thought you bailed,” He states. He inhales a breath. Gerard tries not to stare.

“Got locked out,” Gerard replies and waves his cigarette at the back door.

Frank, unbelieving, pulls on the door. It doesn’t budge and he sighs heavily. “Fucking great.” He leans back against the wall of the venue, feeling the bass from inside pulsing through him. He watches Gerard across the narrow alley, who focuses solely on inhaling and exhaling evenly. “You didn’t look like you were having much fun,” Frank accuses.

“What?” Gerard looks up, his eyebrows creasing.

Frank feigns nonchalance, shrugging and taking another drag before answering. “You just seemed distracted. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had left.”

Gerard shakes his head quickly, feeling the need to reassure Frank. “No, they were good. Just like you said. She was kinda like Brody Dalle, but like… Not.” He stops when he realizes he’s not making any sense. Frank probably thinks he’s a fucking moron.

But Frank studies him for a second longer before a small smile forms on his lips. “Yeah, I totally get that. She’s got the voice of Brody, but she looks more of like a Lady Gaga type, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gerard chuckles, because that’s kind of exactly what he meant.

They smoke in silence for a minute before Frank says, “So who were you looking for?”

Again, Gerard looks surprised. “What do you mean?”

Frank rolls his eyes. They look darker in the dim light of the alley, more alluring if possible than in the small confines of the car. And though there’s more than a foot of space between them, it feels almost suffocating. “Come on, Gerard,” He snorts. “You kept just scanning the walls like you were fucking secret service or some shit. And you looked bummed every time. You were searching for someone. Couldn’t find them?”

Gerard’s mouth feels dry. He can’t just tell Frank who he was really looking for; Fun Ghoul was like his own dirty little secret. He was personal, he was someone that no one else knew about. Frank wouldn’t understand. Gerard settles with sucking down the rest of his cigarette, focusing intently on crushing it beneath the toe of his shoe. He sees when Frank shuffles slightly closer. Gerard looks up to find Frank watching him with a hard expression. He doesn’t look mean or mad, but more defiant. He looks determined.

Frank drops his own cigarette, but his eyes don’t leave Gerard’s. It’s like the gaze is something physical, a line of string connecting the two of them. Frank takes another step forward. Gerard can feel his body heat. He can smell the beer and smoke on Frank’s breath and it’s something that probably shouldn’t turn him on, but it is. He wants to grab Frank and kiss him, wants to pull on that fucking lip ring with his teeth.

Frank takes the final step forward, their chests pressed almost flat together in the narrow alleyway. He’s shorter than Gerard, but the difference in height doesn’t seem to hinder him at all when he grabs Gerard by the front of the jacket and pulls him closer.

Gerard’s mind is screaming-- He’s not sure whether he wants to put a stop to this or if he wants to defile Frank right here and now outside the venue. He can’t seem to move, just being pulled closer by Frank. But just before their lips meet, light filters into the alley, the back door leading into the venue bathroom being thrown open to reveal Mikey.

“There you guys are!” Mikey exclaims. “We thought you guys ditched us. Shows over, Ray wants to head home.”

Frank doesn’t look willing to move. His hand is still twisted in the front of Gerard’s jacket and Gerard doesn’t think the force of God, let alone his scrawny younger brother, could remove it at the moment. “Right now?”

Mikey sighs. “Yes, right now. Ray’s getting all bitchy about how it’s past one and his mom’s gonna throw a fit if he doesn’t get the car back. So come on, we’re leaving.”

Gerard continues staring, awkwardly glancing between Mikey and Frank. He feels like he should do something, like follow his brother inside, who is impatiently staring back like “why the hell aren’t you moving?” but Gerard can’t force his body to work. He feels numb.

Frank seems to get the message first and reluctantly releases Gerard’s jacket, taking a stubborn step back. He let’s his head fall forward when he follows Mikey into the bathroom. He looks back to Gerard, who still isn’t moving. “Are you coming?” He pushes the door open wider, like the reason Gerard is still standing there like a dumbass is because he won’t fit through the doorway. But that is not the reason. He’s frozen. He almost just kissed his brother’s best friend. His brother’s best friend almost kissed HIM.

Gerard manages to shake his head. “Umm… No,” He decides. “I… I was looking for someone, remember? I’ll catch a cab home or something.”

A frown pulls down on Frank’s lips, but he swallows anything he wants to say and just nods weakly. “Yeah. Okay.” He feigns a pathetic smile and lets the back door fall shut behind him, leaving Gerard alone in the alley again.

Gerard smokes the rest of his cigarettes before he feels like he can move again. His head is swarming with incoherent thoughts, mostly seeming to revolve around “holy shit, I almost kissed Frank.” He’s not really sure why the thought seems so dreadful, but his chest is pounding at a rapid rate and his hands feel shaky. Frank is cute, Frank seems awesome. Gerard could totally be into Frank. If it weren’t for Fun Ghoul.

The faceless DJ is still haunting his mind and Gerard feels kind of bad for almost kissing Frank because it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Fun Ghoul. Gerard has been completely crazy about Fun Ghoul since he started listening and now, after a few conversations and a half-shared beer with Frank, he was ready to just jump the younger boy and forget that his DJ ever existed. It felt wrong in a way, it felt like betrayal. He came here tonight in search of the DJ and dammit, he was going to find him.

 

Gerard does not find him. He scavenges the Newark streets until well past two-thirty AM and Gerard comes up empty handed. No sighting of his faceless DJ. At almost three, Gerard calls a cab, dejectedly muttering the address to the cabbie and then sitting back in the seat and sighing.

He sleeps most of the day. He wakes up at around nine to go to the bathroom and then falls back into bed until two in the afternoon. When he awakes that time, it’s a from a dream. In the dream, he hears the voice of his DJ speaking sweetly into his ear. But when he turns around to face the usually faceless man, it’s not a blurred figure he sees. It’s Frank.

Gerard thinks about calling Frank. He wants to apologize for acting like a freak and maybe ask him out on a date. But after too much debate, Gerard chickens out. He starts to think that maybe Frank didn’t actually want to kiss him last night, maybe it was just the alcohol driving him to grab Gerard’s jacket and give him fucking bedroom eyes. So Gerard sits alone in his room, trying to do anything other than think about the almost kiss.

That night, Gerard flicks on the stereo at the usual time. There’s static and dead air for a long time, longer than normal, and Gerard finds himself watching the clock. Fun Ghoul should be on by now. Gerard is beginning to worry-- Maybe Fun Ghoul had a better time at the concert than he did and the DJ is actually getting laid by the Greatest Human To Have Ever Graced The Earth right now. But ten minutes later, the static becomes a low hum and then, without any introduction, Beat Your Heart Out is blasting into the room.

Gerard turns the volume down a little, but he finds himself humming along to the sound of Brody’s voice. He thinks of Frank again and wonders what the other boy is doing right now. He doesn’t have much time to wonder, though, because about halfway through, the song is abruptly cut off and he’s met with the magical sound of Fun Ghoul’s voice instead. He doesn’t sound happy.

“You know what fucking sucks?” The DJ demands. He doesn’t pause long before delving into one of his infamous rants. It doesn’t sound like Fun Ghoul had much luck with his “Greatest Human Ever.” Gerard isn’t sure if he feels sad for the DJ or hopeful. He mostly just relates. “Love sucks. Love. Fucking. Blows. You know, people suck. They suck and love sucks and I am just so fucking sick of caring about anyone because people only let you down. And I’m overreacting, I know I am. But it just…” Silence takes over for a long moment before Fun Ghoul sighs heavily. When he speaks again, the animosity is lost from his voice, replaced with a saddened tone instead. “It just fucking hurts. I was finally going to make a move on the guy of my dreams last night,” He explains. “And I did. Well, kind of. Actually being there at the concert with him, I lost most of my nerve. I was so terrified of rejection. So I had some beer and I threw myself into the mosh pit and then I finally went up to him. The greatest guy in existence. He looked so fucking gorgeous, but he’s an awkward fuck.” He let’s out a small laugh. It’s such a beautiful sound. “He was just standing there by the bar looking out of place. I just wanted to grab him and kiss him so fucking hard. But I just couldn’t because he was looking around, like he lost somebody in the crowd. So ended up losing my nerve and I bailed, went back and started fucking crowd-surfing, threw myself into the music. Lost it for awhile, pretended to be someone else. Anyone else.”

There’s another small silence. Fun Ghoul sighs heavily this time and Gerard thinks he can hear him shift through the static. “Well when I snuck out to smoke, guess who I fucking ran into? Got it; Greatest Human Ever. He was just chilling out there behind the venue. And by that point, I totally had that post-concert high kind of feeling and I was watching him smoke and I just… I couldn’t fucking stand it. So I grabbed him and I was finally ready, I was going to fucking kiss him.”

Gerard is listening intently now. He feels enthralled by the words, mesmerized and captivated. He feels connected in a way after his experience in the alley with Frank. It seems vaguely similar.

“And just before I kiss him,” Fun Ghoul continues. “Fucking BeanPole shows up and says we have to leave. Fucking great, right? I got cockblocked by his brother.”

The DJ laughs but Gerard feels numb. It doesn’t make sense. There is no fucking way that they had the same exact experience-- Gerard recalls his almost kiss with Frank, the way his brother had pushed the door open and interrupted them. But there’s no way… Right?

“Well, instead of leaving with us, he stayed behind. Said he would catch a cab or some shit. He reminded me that he was looking for somebody.” Fun Ghoul is silent a second longer. The dead air seems deafening in Gerard’s ears. “Well, I never really found out who you were looking for, Gee. But I hope you found him, and I hope he was worth it.”

Gee…

Gerard can’t breath. He can’t feel his own body. Everything is distant and blurry because all of his thoughts are colliding, every single thought of Frank and of Fun Ghoul coming to meet in the middle and then exploding because Gerard is starting to realize they are one in the same. It doesn’t feel real, but there’s no other explanation.

Frank is Fun Ghoul.

Which must mean that Gerard is the Greatest Human.

Gerard is the one that Fun Ghoul-- that FRANK-- is in love with.

And Gerard ruined his chance with Frank trying to find someone who was right in front of him.

Gerard turns off the stereo after that. He tries to sleep, but it seems impossible. His head is spinning and he can’t seem to make one coherent thought. Everything is the same and different and distant and loud all at once. The only thing he can seem to understand is that he fucked up and he needs to fix this.

 

Monday morning can’t come soon enough. Gerard, usually dreading the beginning of the week, is up early and ready to go. He stops at his locker quickly and then heads down the Junior hallway where the eleventh graders have their lockers. He pushes past too many people that smell like either weed, Axe body spray, or both, until he finds Frank. He’s pretty easy to spot, pressed as close as he can get to the open locker without actually climbing in. His hair is a mess and he looks tired as he stuffs random papers into his backpack. He closes his locker, turning around just as Gerard appears behind him. They end up nearly chest to chest and Frank instinctively shrinks back against the lockers. He looks up, his eyes widening a bit at seeing Gerard and his mouth falls open, no words escaping. That’s okay, though, because Gerard isn’t really sure what to say either.

“Hey,” Gerard finally manages. His voice shouldn’t be loud enough to be heard over the bustle of students in the hall around them, but he’s so close to Frank he’s almost on top of him.

“Hi,” Frank replies. Another minute of tense silence. Frank shifts his backpack and shuffles his feet on the tile, glancing down. “Umm… About Friday night…”

“I had fun,” Gerard interrupts. And it’s not a lie. Fun Ghoul was right when he said Gerard was an awkward fuck, but the night wasn’t a complete failure.

Frank doesn’t look convinced, quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Gerard nods and then bites down on his lip. He has that urge again to suck Frank’s lip ring into his mouth and make the younger boy moan, he wants to hear whatever sounds he makes. He wants to be the cause of those sounds. “Can I ask you something?”

Frank looks hesitant, but manages a small nod.

Gerard isn’t really sure how to word this next part and he opens his mouth a few times, closing it, and then repeating the process before he leans closer. He braces his open palm against the locker next to Frank’s head when he manages to form words, low but close enough to Frank’s ear to be heard easily. “Fun Ghoul?”

Frank pales. His eyes widen. He looks terrified, like he wants to run away. His mouth opens, shocked. “You… You know who that is?”

Gerard smirks, knowing he was right. “I wasn’t sure until after the concert,” He admits. “I was… I was actually looking for you that night. For Fun Ghoul. I was too stupid to realize he was right in front of me the whole time.”

Frank still looks stunned. “You listen to that shit? To me?”

Gerard chuckles. “Yeah, I listen. All the time.” He shrugs. “I like hearing you talk.”

This makes a grin form on Frank’s lips and he looks up proudly at Gerard. “Well then you are in for a treat, man. Because I never fucking shut up.”

Gerard cocks his head to one side, quirking an eyebrow. “I know how to make you shut up,” He insists. And before either of them can really think about it, they’re kissing. Gerard isn’t sure who moves first, though he thinks it’s him. It doesn’t really matter, all that matters is that it’s finally happening. Gerard runs his tongue along Frank’s lower lip, biting down gently on the hoop and sucking it into his mouth. He feels more than hears the tiny whimpering sound Frank releases, leaning into Gerard’s chest and savoring the taste of him, the feel of his body so close.

Gerard pulls away first, realizing that they’re still in the middle of the hall and, as much as he wants to keep kissing Frank, he really doesn’t want to be reprimanded for PDA during school hours. Still, he rests his forehead against Frank’s. They both smile.

“What are you doing after school?” Frank wonders.

“Hopefully more of this,” Gerard replies, giving Frank’s lips one more chaste peck. He grins.

“Definitely more of that,” Frank nods fervently. “And maybe a movie in your basement?”

Now it’s Gerard’s turn to nod. “I would love that,” He says. But the mention of movies brings something else to mind and he pulls back a bit from Frank, his eyes widening. “Wait, has Mikey really stolen my comics? You’ve actually seen them?”

Frank doesn’t actually answer, instead letting out an adorable laugh and burying his nose in the crook of Gerard’s neck. Gerard can get used to this, he thinks, because that giggle sounds so much better pressed against his chest, no longer muffled through the static of the ratty old speakers. It’s real and it’s right here in front of him, live and in person.

 


	2. Dead Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank shows Gerard how to hijack a radio station, but Frank’s ass is, like, really distracting.  
> [Smut warning. Everybody loves smut, right?]

“You’re gonna get yourself arrested,” Gerard mutters. He’s looking at Frank’s ass, not really focused on the wires and cords that his boyfriend is fiddling with. The  _highly illegal_ wires and cords.

Frank glances over his shoulder, catching Gerard’s gaze and smirking. “Probably. Do you think I’ll look hot in orange?”

Gerard shrugs. “You look hot in anything.” He continues to study the younger boy’s butt, the nice curve beneath the form fitting fabric of the denim jeans. “Or nothing. You’d definitely look hot in nothing. You should take your pants off.”

“So demanding,” Frank tsks, shaking his head. He hooks up one last wire and then stands up, putting both hands on his hips. He quirks one eyebrow at Gerard. “You’ve already seen my ass. I thought you were curious about my station.”

“I am,” Gerard nods once. When he had asked Frank about the radio station, he was mostly wondering if he still talked at all, since Gerard didn’t really listen anymore-- It felt like an invasion of privacy now that they were dating. The radio station was Frank’s outlet, his sanctum, and if Gerard listened to that, he felt like he was inside Frank’s head, a place he didn’t want to be unless Frank wanted him there. So he gave Frank his space-- his own little private place to vent on the radio. And when he had asked Frank about the station, he was surprised to find that Frank jumped at the subject, eager to tell Gerard all about how it worked and even offering to show him. Gerard just hadn’t realized until now how much actually went into hijacking a radio station.

“You seriously keep all of this stuff just sitting around your room?” Gerard looks around to all of the various colored wires and cords plugged into the wall and twisting around a black box sitting in the center of the unsturdy wooden desk.

“Yeah.” Frank shrugs, like having incriminating material strewn about his bedroom was no big deal. “I mean, my parents are too busy moving shit or bitching with divorce lawyers to remember they have a son. Even if they did see it, they don’t know what the fuck any of it is.”

Gerard was relating right at this moment, staring on at the indiscernible objects before him. He decides not to acknowledge the mention of Frank’s parents-- Since they’re decision to divorce, Frank has been touchy on the subject. When he wants to talk about it, he does, and Gerard listens without complaint. Mostly it was just yelling and sometimes crying, and then Frank would collapse in exhaustion and Gerard would brush a hand through his hair and talk about anything-- A new comic idea or some movie he had watched. It didn’t matter what he said. Frank just wanted to hear his voice until the younger boy finally fell asleep curled into Gerard’s side.

Now, Frank turns to the table. He points to the black box first. “That’s an FM transmitter. It’s what sends out the airwaves to the dead stations. If you’re close enough, it can even override other waves. If I wanted, I could fucking take over the station downtown and talk shit all over those jockeys. They suck anyway, but that’s totally beside the point.” He waves a hand then at the entire setup that clutters the desk. “Whenever I want to play music, I hook my iPod up to the blue cord. The mic I use when I want to talk is built into the headphones, see?”

Gerard nods along, pretending to know what Frank is saying. He gets the basics, but it’s when Frank starts using words like “air interface” and “waveguide rotary joint” that he loses Gerard completely and Gerard takes the time to think again about how nice Frank’s ass is. He wonders absently about how many times Frank has jerked off in this exact room. Has he ever done it while he was broadcasting? Gerard would be lying if he said he’s never rubbed one out while he was listening to the then-faceless DJ.

Frank seems to take notice of Gerard’s distraction and makes one more vague encompassing gesture toward the desk. “So that’s how it all works.” He glances at the time on his phone and smirks sideways at Gerard. Frank pulls on Gerard’s hands, leading him to take a seat in the single swivel desk chair before placing himself on his boyfriend’s lap. He flicks a couple switches and a blue light starts blinking on the transmitter. Then he puts the headphones around his neck, angling the microphone between them, and begins to speak.

“Hey you sexy motherfuckers,” Frank grins. He’s looking directly at Gerard. Gerard’s breath catches-- All the times he imagined this, seeing the face of the anonymous pirate DJ, hearing his words in person, feeling his breath when he exhaled. And now here he is, right before him. Gerard’s hands come to rest on Frank’s hips and he seems to get lost in his hazel eyes. “Well, I can’t actually see you guys, but I assume you’re all very sexy. However, I have the most sexiest one of all right here with me. Everybody say hi to the Greatest Human to have ever graced the Earth.”

Gerard’s heart stutters when Frank uses those words to describe him, but it nearly stops altogether when Frank holds out the microphone for Gerard to speak. His eyes go all wide for a second. Frank chuckles, motioning for Gerard to say something. “Umm… Hi?” It sounds like a question and Gerard is pretty sure his voice cracked, but Frank seems pleased.

“I told you he was an awkward fuck, right?” Frank continues to his listeners. Gerard wonders absently just how many people there are out there listening to him right now. “That’s okay, though. He’s _my_ awkward fuck. So this is the first time that I’m showing my Awkward Fuck my station-- AKA my transmitter and spinning desk chair, which is all hella cool, by the way. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Gerard manages a short nod, and Frank giggles. Fucking _giggles_.

Frank continues talking after a pause, but Gerard loses track of what he’s saying. The words become nothing but background noise to the buzzing filling Gerard’s head. His ears ring with the amount of staticky thoughts spinning around in his mind, whirring by with blurring speed. He just watches Frank, the grin stretching across his lips, the way he waves his arms around flailingly and almost wacks Gerard more than once, the glimmer in his hazel eyes. Gerard thinks about the real Frank-- A seventeen year old kid whose life is falling apart around him. His parents are getting divorced and he’s about a semester away from failing eleventh grade. And then there’s Fun Ghoul, the Frank he lets himself be on the radio, where he doesn’t _have_ to be anybody. He doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s happy. And he’s actually sharing this side of himself with Gerard.

Gerard isn’t really sure what Frank is saying, but his words are cut off when Gerard presses their lips together. He allows one hand to wrap around the back of Frank’s neck, where he actually feels Frank’s heart jump. “I love you,” Gerard mumbles against his mouth. It’s not the first time he’s professed his love to Frank, but it feels so different in this moment, with the microphone between them. It’s a sensual moment, exclusive and private, and yet he just broadcasted his love over the radio, for anyone who’s listening to hear.

Frank’s grin widens and in an instant, he’s pulling Gerard in for another kiss, deeper than the first. There’s an underlying passion, an urgency to the action, and Gerard allows his tongue to dart out and rub against Frank’s. Gerard’s feels pride swell up inside him when Frank releases a small moan. The headphones are abandoned on the desk when Frank shifts on Gerard’s lap, twisting around so their stomachs are pressed together, then it’s Gerard’s turn to gasp as Frank ruts downward against Gerard and he can feel the half hard-on his boyfriend is sporting.

Gerard is panting, cursing, and moaning when Frank reaches a hand between them to pop open the buttons on their jeans in one swift motion. He pulls himself out first, his cock coming to rest on Gerard’s lap, but before he reaches for Gerard, Frank pulls back. Gerard whines at the loss of contact. Frank chuckles and twists around, saying, “Hang on. Just a sec.”

Gerard watches as Frank fumbles with his iPod, plugging it into the machine and pressing a button. He’s turning on music, Gerard realizes. And then Frank’s attention is back on him and before he can even comprehend what is happening, Gerard is freed from the confines of his pants and his now full erection is bumping and sliding against Frank’s.

The pad of Frank’s thumb drags across the tip of Gerard’s member, collecting the precum that gathers there. Gerard can only watch, mesmerized and maybe a little bit disgusted, but mostly in awe, when Frank brings the thumb up to his mouth and licks off the sticky white liquid. Frank’s eyes close and he looks like he’s _actually fucking enjoying the taste of his boyfriend’s semen_ and Gerard can’t help it-- the sight of Frank like that turns him on more than anything-- and he’s pressing their mouths together. It’s only a second later that he feels Frank’s hand wrapping around him, feels Frank’s cock sliding against his own with a delicious friction that makes his stomach twist and his mind wipe completely blank.

Gerard buries his face in the crook of Frank’s neck, letting loose a slew of curses. He wants to bat Frank’s hand away, replace it with his own and feel the weight of Frank’s aching erection under his fingertips, but he can’t seem to control his own limbs and his hands stay where they are, resting on Frank’s hips, just tugging him closer. While Gerard at least tries to contain his moans, Frank doesn’t even attempt to keep his silent. These sharp intakes of breath, groaned curses and keening sighs, ring out in the empty room, vibrating off the walls and echoing in Gerard’s ears, through his entire body. He loves the sounds Frank makes when they’re having sex, the pleas and begs and whines and screams. When Gerard mouths at the skin of Frank’s neck, he mumbles encouragements, softly telling Frank how incredible it feels to have Frank’s hand wrapped around him, how breathtaking he sounds, how he wants to let his lips wander over every inch of Frank’s body and taste his salty sweat on his tongue as Frank writhes beneath him.

It’s not until Gerard bites down roughly on the skin near Frank’s shoulder, repeating his confession of love again, that Frank releases a strangled moan and comes hard. Gerard revels in the feeling of Frank’s orgasm on his own still throbbing cock, the warmth that seems to wrap around him, sliding along with Frank’s hand, and then Gerard is coming, too, biting down again on Frank’s neck where he’ll undoubtedly leave a bruise.

Both of the men are a mess when the soft pants settle into even breaths. Gerard feels dazed and content when he presses another sweet kiss to Frank’s lips. It only lasts a few seconds before Frank is chuckling and lifting up his hand, making a face at the off-white substance that layers his skin. “So fucking gross,” He mutters, but his smile doesn’t falter.

Gerard rolls his eyes, chortling, “You’re the one who licked it.”

Frank quirks an eyebrow at Gerard in a challenging way and raises two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the digits and sucking off the come, probably a mix of both his and Gerard’s. Gerard feels his dick twitch again. Frank lowers his hand and trails his tongue teasingly against Gerard’s lower lip, letting him taste the bitterness for himself. And even though that should be totally gross, Gerard leans into the kiss, wanting to taste more.

Barely a minute passes before the drying fluids begin to get uncomfortable and Frank stands up. Gerard wanders into the bathroom to get a wet washcloth, ditching his shirt on the tile floor and wiping down his chest. When he comes back into the bedroom, Frank has his pants readjusted and his shirt is gone, too. He’s standing in front of the desk with something in his hand. When Gerard gets closer, he sees it’s the iPod. Without a word, Gerard starts to wipe the wet cloth across Frank’s stomach, but washing up seems to be the last thing on his mind when Frank turns, wide-eyed, to gape at Gerard.

“The iPod is off,” He states.

And Gerard looks down at the black screen, nodding along. “Okay?”

Frank continues to stare. “I plugged it in, but I forgot to turn it on. It was off the entire time.”

Gerard shakes his head now, kind of confused. “And…?”

“The iPod. Was off,” Frank repeats slowly. “The music wasn’t playing. The mic was still plugged in and--”

Gerard feels his face flush when he realizes what Frank is saying. “Did all of your listeners just hear us have sex?”

Frank looks to be biting back a smile when he nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

Gerard should feel embarrassed, awkward, maybe even ashamed, but instead he finds himself smirking at Frank. “You think they enjoyed it? How many do you think got off listening to us?”

Frank grins up at Gerard. “You kinky fucker.”

Gerard doesn’t really know what to say, so he just shrugs. He lowers his lips to Frank’s and smiles. “I really want to touch your ass,” He admits and lets his hands snake around Frank’s waist, settling on the aforementioned butt. He hums softly, stealing another kiss. “I want to defile you.”

Frank moans and nods enthusiastically. “Fucking, _please_.”

Gerard grins. “But this time, you should probably make sure the music is on.”

 


End file.
